


Beach Dream #4

by bmmboo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blowjobs, Canon Divergent, M/M, PWP, Sort of Rough Sex?, face fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 12:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12557572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmmboo/pseuds/bmmboo
Summary: “It was so romantic, Yuuri. I wish my first kiss with Takeshi had been that sweet!” Yuuko knots her fingers under her chin, swooning. Her husband looks away, as if he’d heard nothing.She firmly believes it was their first kiss. He doesn’t correct her. When Yuuri looks up, Victor’s eyes meet his, coy smile gracing his stupidly beautiful face.--Canon divergent "first kiss" bc I wanted to write some self indulgent PWP so enjoy.





	Beach Dream #4

When Yuuri finally makes it back to Hasetsu, he’s surrounded in the warmth of his family and friends. He’s showered with passing congratulations from the airport to the train, and the taxi-driver in between waives his fare as a form of celebration. Victor smiles at him the whole way. In Japan, anyway, he might as well have won gold, for how excited everyone around him seems to be.

 

Yutopia is already lit up and the Nishigori’s are waiting alongside Yuuri’s family, triplets with their handmade banner strung between them. Yuuri barely has time to set his bags down before he gets bombarded. Victor just laughs along, pressing a lighter than air kiss behind his ear before wandering into the kitchen with Mari.

 

“You got your first kiss on international television!” Yuuko squeals.

“Well, not my first kiss, I-”

“You know what I MEAN,” She chides, patting him on the cheeks. “That was you and Victor’s first kiss!” Yuuko goes on and on, mentioning the highlights from the last few competitions, congratulating and congratulating him, asking how the relationship was. He indulges her as much as he can, as much as he _should_. _“Thank you for watching me. I nearly broke my pelvis landing the quad flip poorly in practice, but it was worth it. Thanks. Thank you. I’m fine, we’re fine.”_ Yuuri’s responses are perfunctory, and as much as he loves Yuuko, he’s ready for everyone to forget he exists for a few hours.

 

Victor laughs in the other room, coming out with Mari, hands full of food for the family.

 

“It was so _romantic_ , Yuuri. I wish my first kiss with Takeshi had been that sweet!” Yuuko knots her fingers under her chin, swooning. Her husband looks away, as if he’d heard nothing.

She firmly believes it was their first kiss. He doesn’t correct her. When Yuuri looks up, Victor’s eyes meet his, coy smile gracing his stupidly beautiful face.

–-

Really their first kiss had been in June. Or was it July? Either way, they’re edging closer and closer to January, and Yuuri is finally assured that no one knew they’d been together a lot longer than most people believe.

 

Most people watched them on television in short bursts, interviews and kiss & cry mini-events. There was the kiss in China. Their first overly public one, Yuuri supposes. But by then, the earlier part of November...well, it was impossible to know how many times he’d kissed Victor like that. He thought it would be obvious. Oh, you know. Yuuri, whose big gay awakening happened before his eyes in the form of a sixteen year old Victor Nikiforov on a tiny television screen in the lobby of Ice Castle Hasetsu. Yuuri, who’d fawned and obsessed and _loved_ Victor for years before meeting him properly.

 

That Yuuri would have been _way_ more surprised to get a kiss like that from _Victor_ of all people. But no one seems to notice that the look on his face is comfortable affection, familiar and kind. It’s not slack jawed shock, like his mind had just been blown apart by the surprise. If anyone _had_ noticed, they never mention it. Yuuri knows he’d have fallen apart if _that_ had really been number one. But instead he’d played it close to his chest, and never told otherwise, so people believed what they wanted.

 

That’s fine, Yuuri thinks. He likes having the secret.

–-

Anyway, it begins in June, just days before July. Kyushu already humming with an early rush of summer heat, and Victor takes it as a personal invitation from Mother Nature herself to go to the beach. Heat alone didn’t mean the ocean was fit for swimming, and it takes no time at all for Yuuri to realize the water is still cold with the last vestiges of winter, and the beach still mostly void of visitors.

 

Not that a little thing like chilly water would stop a spirited Russian from dragging Yuuri to the sea anyway.

\--

The beach turns out to be a fantastic idea. A brilliant idea.

It’s the worst idea ever, but it’s also _good_. Great. They’ve spent the entire trip in small contests, roughhousing in the water and laughing so much Yuuri swallows half a mouthful of saltwater.

 

Victor edges out Yuuri’s never-ending stamina by dunking him under the water, only to hoist him back up with his arms around his waist. Victor shakes with the exertion, and Yuuri shivers with what he’ll blame on the chill of a breeze on wet skin.

He’s heavy with seawater and a rushing wave only lets Victor grip him tighter, enough for Yuuri’s knees to bend reflexively along his thighs, floating until the wave passes.

 

“And now,” Victor rasps, breathless. His voice scraping close to his ear, rough with salt and sunshine. “I have you.”

The hoarseness in his voice shouldn’t be so...alluring. Something about it stirs an ancient well of curiosity in Yuuri. The old chestnut of _“I wonder what he sounds like in bed?”_ rears it’s head, summoned by the simple growl that had drifted into Yuuri’s ears and straight to the pit of his gut.

 

He’s had _dreams_ like this. Dreams where Victor holds him close and breathes against his neck, his ears and... Yuuri can’t stop them. A flock of giggles like tiny gulls. He’s almost hysterical with them. Having this, having _him_ so close and so much like he’d dreamt before...but it was different. Good different.

 

Yuuri is practically living a wet dream but it’s all _wrong_. He doesn’t want the Victor of his past. He likes _this_ Victor. The one staring at him with something resembling confusion as his own will begins to crumble, and he pushes his forehead to Yuuri’s chest, and laughs with him.

\--

Victor still looking at him when he finally manages to quell the giggles jumping out his chest. Victor’s own hearty laughter petered out into hoarse huffs of air, but the smile he has hasn't faded.. He’s vivid with red cheeks, and sparkling eyes, and Yuuri can only smile back.

 

Something about the _way_ he looks at Yuuri sends a curious jolt down his spine that leaves his whole body tingling. Victor holds him in his sights like something truly worth seeing. Yuuri can almost make out the outline of himself in the gaze, the silhouette surrounded by the ocean blue of Victor’s eyes. He feels frozen there, and the arm that Victor had used to grab him tenses, hand spread across his lower back.

 

Victor’s smile falters a moment, and he seems to study Yuuri with a vulnerable expression. The waves jump and brush the sand, pushing past their bodies in a soft rush of sound that surrounds them. Other than the gulls, there’s just a silence as they stand so close in the water.

 

It’s Victor that moves first, bumping their noses together until their faces slot together, Yuuri’s mouth still frozen in a stunned gasp from the shock of it all. He picks up the slack as fast as he can, hand gripping Victor’s upper arm reassuringly. He hums approval through his lips, against Victor’s mouth.

 

This might be the best thing Yuuri has ever experienced. Shivering in the ocean, bundled up in Victor’s arms, sharing breaths and space. There’s a tickle of something...seaweed, a small fish, debris, just _something_ over Yuuri’s foot, and he tugs his own lip from Victor’s teeth with a start.

 

They’re on a public beach. Yuuri hastily puts some distance between them. As much as the push of the waves will allow. Yuuri can feel the sand under his feet shift, and it’s hard to tell if he’s really floating, or it just _feels_ that way. There’s no one close enough to really notice them, and Yuuri briefly considers resuming where he left off, but Victor’s confused expression stops him.

 

“I wasn’t expecting that.” Yuuri whispers, his wide eyed stare locking them together like moon to the tides. “I just wanted to be sure no one was…”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

 

Yuuri takes a quick glance over his own shoulder to check again. The beach next to them is almost empty. He needs to know, _now_ if anyone saw. If anyone will _see_. Victor’s arms are still wrapped around his middle, muscles twitching with anticipation, but thankfully, not letting go. The thought of someone watching starts a jealous ripple across Yuuri’s skin, flowing in goosebumps down his arms..

 

Yuuri makes the distance he’d put between them disappear in an instant, giving Victor an apologetic lick across his bottom lip before grabbing his arms, pulling them off his own body until he can tug Victor’s wrists.

“We should-”

“Let’s get out of the water,” Victor says lowly, voice nearly hidden in the rush of a wave. Yuuri’s toes curl in the soft sand.

“Good plan.”

–-

Yuuri isn’t sure who drags who. It feels like they were alternating, one pulling the other until Victor finally takes the lead, pulling Yuuri behind an empty beach side shop, out of sight of the public – only just. He drops their bags heavily onto the sandy pavement, pulling them into the shade of the building.

 

“I’ve wanted to do this for months,” Victor sighs against Yuuri’s neck. He’s not totally sure this isn’t just another variation on Beach Dream #4 featuring Victor Nikiforov. It could be. Yuuri shuts his eyes, feeling Victor gently rest his lips against the pulse that’s going wild in his throat. Nope. Beach Dream #4 wasn’t this...amazing. And #4 was always his favorite. But the sand is just...sand colored, not pastel blue, the sea is lively and cool, not warm, silent and soft, and Victor is real, and is _really_ mouthing so, so gently at whatever skin he can reach.

 

Yuuri shivers. His own hands jitter across Victor’s naked shoulders, one hand resting on his nape, pulling him up, closer. The other clings to him, the sense of reality helps. He’s real. This is real. Victor’s hands...Come to think of it, Beach Dream #4 is starting to look kind of lame. Victor was _in it_ , but it was obviously a dream. He was only an ephemeral presence, talking sweetly to Yuuri. Yuuri did all the work! Reality is fast shattering his dream-fantasy, because in _reality_ , Victor has one hand firmly on his hip, the other cupping his cheek.

 

They’ve been millimeters apart for a few hours (okay, seconds. Seconds.), and finally Yuuri’s resolve snaps. Years of stuffing down a celebrity crush shake and rattle apart, and fall into the sea in the wake of a real, living, breathing man in front of him. He pulls at Victor’s neck again, bringing him in for another kiss. It’s the second best kiss he’s ever had. The first happened minutes ago in the ocean. He’s not sure if anything can beat that, but all the ones from here on out will be tied for #2, he guesses.

 

Fuck Beach Dream #4. And all the others. Of course there were others, but they were all worthless, meaningless in the presence of Victor Nikiforov’s sun-chapped mouth on his. At 13, at 16, at 20...the idea that Victor would be pushing him up against the cool stone exterior of Nakayama’s Sand Bar kissing him stupid would have been such a pipe dream.

 

Victor sighs, leaning his body weight onto Yuuri, mouth not leaving his. The kiss is getting lazy and slow, curious and patient. If they part, they don’t for long, sharing breaths and glossy glances.

 

Victor wanted this for months, he said. Yuuri has wanted it for _years_. Oh. Oh shit. Years. It feels like he was just handed a hot pan with no glove. He has it! He has what he’s lusted after, coveted for _years_. Victor (Five Time Living Legend World Champion) Nikiforov kissed him! And he kissed back! And they’re making out in a shady spot on a public beach, just like his teenage favorite Beach Dreams! Victor is pushing, leaning against him and _oh._ They’d walked here in trunks and tee-shirts, but no amount of shifting and tucking is hiding a boner in these shorts.

They have to go. Home. Now.

 

Yuuri wiggles against the stone wall, growing uncomfortable from both sides. Victor sighs against his neck, just next to the soft spot near his jaw. It’s getting increasingly hard to will an erection away, and with the captivating look in Victor’s eyes, Yuuri almost gives in.

 

Almost.

 

“Ah, we should leave.” Yuuri says in a rush of breath, gently pecking Victor’s swollen lips before pushing him back. “I mean...continue, but...somewhere else.”

Yuuri gets a dazed, confused look in exchange, and he can feel his cheeks warm. “Look, swimming trunks aren’t really the best for..I mean they don’t exactly hide...”

 

Victor’s eyes go wide, his sun-warmed skin running an embarrassed pink under the faint burn settling across his cheeks. Yuuri does himself a favor and doesn’t look down. If he imagines the press of Victor against his hip well he’ll pretend to not notice and hope Victor is better at controlling himself until they can get home.

–-

Yuuri scopes Yutopia quickly, hoping he and Victor can steal away upstairs before anyone really notices they didn’t rinse all that well after the beach, still sandy and covered in drying saltwater. He does the math in his head. It’s nearly time for the supper rush. His parents and Mari will be busy, so maybe...maybe they can get cleaned up in the upstairs bath rather than the onsen showers.

 

Maybe they could. But even though the waistband of his trunks is still damp, even though there’s still a fine grit of sand in his hair, Yuuri finds himself being dragged up the stairs and down the hallway to Victor’s room. Victor slides the door shut, dropping the beach bag behind him, an uncharacteristic roughness in his actions.

 

Suddenly, Yuuri realizes he’s hitting relationship milestones he’d never expected to hit at break-neck pace. It should scare him. It should trigger _some_ kind of anxiety. But Yuuri is in his own home and has never felt safer or more sure of moving forward with a relationship in his entire life.

 

And he’s doing it with the same person he’s fantasized about for 11 awkward, painstakingly slow years. But he isn’t 15, still learning just how he likes to grip and twist, rutting into his hand after school to the new posters on his wall. He isn’t 18 and working out the stress of moving halfway across the world, or 21, biting into a wad of his sheet to avoid waking up Phichit in their shared dorm. He’s 23, and Victor is looking at him like he wants to eat Yuuri alive. God, and he’d probably let him.

 

Yuuri barely has time to take a shaking breath before Victor is on him again. Or maybe he’d moved first, but it doesn’t matter, because Yuuri finds himself pressed backwards until he gently _whump_ s onto the bed, Victor’s long, lean body covering his like the world’s sexiest man-shaped sheet. His weight is a comfortable presence, making it all more real.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor whispers into his ear, head tilted so he can barely see his face, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I got here.” His tone is high and tight, only the slightest waiver giving away his nerves. Victor was _nervous_. Around Yuuri. That little fact is almost more reeling than everything else today. Yuuri relaxes under him, winding his arms under Victor’s, letting his hands feel each bump of his ribs, and Yuuri can only bite his lip at the feeling of the body under his hands. The firmness, the warmth of it.

 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was 12, but I’m glad you said so first,” Yuuri tells him, finding his typical Don’t Embarrass Yourself filter has gone missing. His eyes flit up, meeting Victor’s where he hovers just over his face. Their mouths brush occasionally, and Yuuri can’t stop a wanton sigh from brushing Victor’s lips.

Victor laughs, a tittering, hopeful chime of a sound. “That’s adorable.”

\--

Through all this, the fog of arousal, the shock of being kissed in the ocean like some stereotypical romcom, Yuuri is a bit surprised his anxiety has kept quiet. It probably should speak up before he does or says something stupid.

 

Victor is sucking another mark into Yuuri’s collar bone, and instead of stopping him, Yuuri cranes his neck. It’s always been a weak spot. Now would be the time for it to rear it’s shapeless head. Any time now.

 

He’s a little embarrassed. His...noises...have always been less like words, and more like breathy, gasping sounds.

Yuuri would file a missing persons report for his normal levels of Anxiety but frankly he’s glad it’s gone for now. For now. Victor’s got his left leg trapped between his muscular thighs. He pushes, pressing them into the comforter, indenting the mattress _just so_.

 

He pushes a little harder. Yuuri can feel Victor’s bony hip against his own erection as Victor shamelessly ruts against his leg.

 

Yuuri gives his anxiety ten seconds to respond, or he’s gonna do it.

 

“ _Yuuri,_ I think-” Victor nuzzles into his neck. “I don’t know if I should-” He _whines_. Like he’s in pain. Yuuri shifts his leg. If he’s that hard, he probably _is_ in a bit of pain. Victor’s breath catches in his throat, his fingers still brushing through the crown of Yuuri’s head, twitching when Yuuri moves. Five seconds. Nothing stopping Yuuri from just going for it, saying whatever he wants, doing whatever he wants.

 

Yuuri’s unfocused vision zeroes in on the rise and fall of Victor’s hastened breathing, on the flush that paints his neck down his chest. He looks up, blue eyes glassy and pleading. His gaze drops, looking to where Victor is rutting shamelessly against his thigh. It’s the most appealing thing he’s seen in _years_.

 

“Please, Yuuri.”

Time’s up. There’s a question Yuuri has been dying to ask, and with nothing stopping him, it bubbles up his throat and out into the free, open air.

 

“Can I suck you off?” Yuuri _feels_ the words fly out of his mouth, like five tiny butterflies. A little louder than he means to, but bravery formed the words in his lungs and shoved them out his throat before he could even think about volume. Part of him, reticent and self-conscious, wants to apologize and hide his face forever. When Yuuri opens his mouth, his body twists under Victor, and all he can manage is a strangled, “ _Please_ , Victor. I want to.”

 

Yuuri has some control. He said what he needed to say. He doesn’t say _‘I want you to come on my face’,_ or _‘Choke me with your medals,’_ even if it’s what he really wants to say. He floats in a brief window of silence, mind rolling with the very thought in a heady wave that goes straight to his dick. Victor pushes his head into the bed over Yuuri’s shoulder, voice rumbling and low, _keening_.

 

“Fuck,” he whispers deeply, muffling himself into the sheet. “In the shower?” His fingers claw at Yuuri’s still sandy hair, drifting down to his hip to pull him closer. It’s maddening. Yuuri’s skin prickles with the very idea. If he wasn’t hard already, the phantom sensation of the hard floor against his knees, of Victor’s hand pulling his hair would get him that way, fast.

 

If Yuuri didn’t know any better he’d think Victor sounded...desperate, there for a moment. Perhaps blowing Victor was _his_ fantasy, and “in the shower” was Victor’s. More importantly that sounded like a “Yes” if Yuuri has ever heard one. His toes curl, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth.

 

“ _God,_ ” he hisses. The leg not trapped by Victor lifts, bending so his heel can dig into the bed. “Can I?”

Victor reels back as if the heat in Yuuri’s chest burst out, like fresh lava from a forming volcano. He clumsily lurches off the bed, swearing when his foot catches the sheet. Yuuri lets himself be hauled up into his arms, returning a sloppy kiss before running to his room to get his bath supplies and fresh clothes.

 

Yuuri fumbles with his phone as Victor sucks at the side of his neck, sending a vague message to Mari, hoping she understands to avoid the upstairs bathroom for at least an hour.

–-

They take as little time as they possibly can rinsing before Yuuri is pulling and pushing Victor into position against the wall. He’s hard, erection barely flagging since they left the bedroom. He turns the water to a comfortable warmth, settling them so that Victor is barely in the spray, and the water will hit his back, but not his face. Yuuri sinks to his knees, hands trailing down his sides, listening to Victor’s breath scrape out of his lungs when his fingers finally stop, pressing into his hipbones. Victor takes in a gravely breath, his own hands squeaking against the wet tile.

 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri whispers to himself. He’s face to face with Victor’s dick, so close he could almost see his own reflection in the drip of clear fluid clinging to the head. It might be the most beautiful penis Katsuki Yuuri has ever had the privilege of putting in his mouth. Victor seems to want to speak, but the words fall like a line of dominoes as Yuuri pushes his hand against Victor, lifting his dick, letting his fingers gently ghost down the straining underside, over the sensitive frenulum, pushing the spot where the hard gives way to the soft, shaven skin of his balls.

 

Yuuri drags his fingers over them, marveling at how smooth they feel in his hand. One by one, Yuuri’s Sexual Bucket List items are coming true and his suspicions confirmed. They aren’t the first balls he’s rolled in his palm, but they’re exactly how he’d imagined. Warm from the shower, they’re a pliable handful, skin soft and lightly textured. Flawlessly groomed. Yuuri gives an appreciative kiss to the head, letting his tongue dart out and run along the ridge just under his foreskin.

 

Victor hisses. “ _Shit_ , Yuuri.” Over the noise of the water falling over his back, Yuuri barely hears it, but revels in the strain he’s putting in Victor’s voice, the words coiling from his tense neck and through clenched teeth..

 

Victor, he thinks, is perfectly portioned. Yuuri takes just a few moments to assess the situation. Victor’s “situation”. Victor’s dick is pale with a rose blush, the head redder than the rest, pulling up out of the foreskin, which slides under the head with a gentle pull of Yuuri’s fingers. He shaves, or waxes, something Yuuri knew from their time in the onsen, but can appreciate all the same. The smooth, tight skin of his pelvis that gives in to the slightest wrinkle of skin where his cock juts straight out from the flat planes of his body.

 

There’s a full body rush of heat the second Yuuri puts his hand around the base, holding it still. He _has_ to do this. Now. With a gasp as the feeling washes over him, he leans forward, licking a barely there stripe from the edge of his hand, up to the tip, tongue lolling around the head, them moving to suckle along the side, tongue gliding along the underside as he slides closer to Victor’s pelvis.

 

Yuuri can’t, and won’t hold back a groan as he lets the entirety of Victor’s erection push past his covered teeth, over his tongue and as far back his throat as it can go. He relaxes his jaw and huffs a pleased sigh out his nose. Yuuri’s own dick jumps excitedly as he realizes that, fully erect, Victor fills his mouth, just barely hitting the back of his throat. It’s a flawless fit, the almost-not-enough airflow leaves Yuuri floating on a brief, heady high as he pulls back, taking a shivering breath of his own before greedily taking most of it back into his mouth.

 

“ _Wh- hwa-,”_ Victor keens as his knees buckle. “ _Who on earth taught you this?_ ” Yuuri doesn’t see his face (he wishes he could), but the dull thud of the back of Victor’s head meeting the wall is satisfying enough. Yuuri lets his mind relax, his thoughts focusing exclusively on his actions. One hand holds Victor’s hip, stymieing the intermittent twitches, the other holding the base of his dick firmly in place, and his mouth doing the rest of the work.

 

He focuses on the head, making mental notes on what kind of stimulation makes Victor’s breath hiccup out of him, and where he likes Yuuri’s tongue most. Yuuri keeps his lips tight around the girth of it, sliding to take more of him in as his tongue lathes wherever it can reach. He keeps one hand near the base, keeping Victor’s dick from bouncing, and the other tracing lightly across his balls, something Victor seems to love, as he whines when the hand pulls away.

 

“I...Yuuri,” Victor groans, spreading the u’s in his name. “Getting close.”

 

Yuuri slides himself off with a soft pop, spit and precome bridging the gap between his mouth and Victor.

“I-in my mouth,” his voice croaks, “Or on my face?”

 

Victor’s own hand darts between them gripping the base of his dick harder than Yuuri would have. Victor’s body tenses, and he swears something unintelligible in a terse hiss that devolves into a growl.

“Ah, almost...almost didn’t get to choose,” the hand releases, and Yuuri can see it shake as he reaches out to touch his cheek. “Mouth...mouth will be good,” He finally decides, tone airy and taut on the brink of orgasm.

 

“F-fuck my mouth, then.” Yuuri rasps, voice still raw. He can’t stop a pang of embarrassment from rearing it’s ugly head, but it’s quickly buried by lust. Lust, as it turns out, is the bulldozer that destroys Yuuri’s insecurity in times like this. It’s like alcohol, without the headache the next morning or the memory loss.

 

He takes Victor back into his mouth, letting him slide in as comfortably as possible. He puts his hands on Victor’s hips lightly, just for the balance. For a moment, he’s not sure what Victor’s feelings on the moment are, but before more doubt can poison his rattled brain, Victor takes Yuuri’s cheeks in hand, gently holding the sides of his face before shifting to hold the back of his head, tying his fingers into Yuuri’s soaking hair.

 

He doesn’t go long. Victor’s breath goes in heavy, panting gasps as he manages three, four, five unrestrained pushes against the back of Yuuri’s throat before jerking against the wall and coming hard with a shout that echoes in the room. He comes in strong pulses so far back that Yuuri only gets the impression of a flavor from it, but he keeps his mouth closed tightly around Victor until his breathing levels out, dick softening.

–-

Yuuri pulls off, echoing Victor’s shaky sighs. Victor watches him with glazed blue eyes, unfocused and heavy-lidded.

 

“Thank you,” Yuuri manages, wiping the spit from his chin with the back of his hand. His voice is a whisper of it’s usual volume, throat still raw.

Victor’s eyes go wide, before scrunching closed, and he gives his head a clearing shake. He leans down to pull Yuuri upright, and it’s only then that Yuuri really _notices_. His legs nearly give out, parts of them nearly numb from his position. Even without his glasses he can see the lines where the grout between the tile pushed into his skin. But more importantly, his own erection is a dusky, irate red, and his whole body shakes with an unexpressed need.

 

He’s so hard that he hurts, the pressure building with every beat of his heart.

“Oh, oh...” He can barely think a coherent thought, and it’s good that Victor was there as his knees weaken and threaten to drop his entire weight back onto the ground.

 

Victor flips him in his arms, wrapping a long arm across his chest, across his ribs to help hold him up. The other snakes down, Victor’s fingers parting across the base of his erection, stalling there.

“I’ll help you now?” His words come out as a breath against Yuuri’s ear, and he can only shake his head frantically, rough voice barely letting out broken syllables of affirmation.

 

Victor wastes no time, mouth descending on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, hand gripping his dick firmly. Yuuri’s mind goes blank. He’s so worked up it’s compressed in on itself, and he’s _so close,_ but it isn’t _enough_ at the speed he craves. Victor jerks him off inelegantly, but even he can tell Yuuri just _needs._ He doesn’t need to be wound up, he just wants it rough, and fast. He needs to come so badly he almost _can’t_.

 

Yuuri’s eyes are squeezed tight, and every breath comes with a harsh cacophony of _hah_ , _ah,_ and _oh._ He hums and whispers in any language that will come out of him, mostly chattering nonsense in any tongue. His head rolls back against Victor’s shoulder, mouth bubbling up a fountain of sounds as Victor’s hand tightens, squeezing as it bounces against his groin, each stroke rocking from root to tip.

 

Yuuri, somewhere in the tornado of thoughts, knows he’s loud. He’s vocalizing every gasp, volume increasing in a crescendo of breathy moans as he toes the line, edging closer and closer, desperate to let Victor fling him off the edge. He knows when his orgasm rips through his body like a flash of lightning, when Victor’s hand abruptly stops, tight fist resting above his drawn up balls, he _knows_ he screams. If anyone _had_ been in the top two floors of his home, they would have heard. They would have heard, and _known_ , as Yuuri wails, Victor’s name knit into the fabric of a wanton shout.

 

Victor lets his hand lazily pump the last remnants of the orgasm out of Yuuri, letting it slide over his fingers, dripping thickly onto the shower floor. Yuuri’s blurry vision loses track of the drip as it fades into the water, and for a few seconds, his head is blissfully blank, much of his bodyweight still resting against Victor’s front, held tightly in his arms.

 

He can only laugh airily. He can feel Victor’s mouth smile against his skin.

 

\--

Back in the room, wrapped in Victor’s oversized (probably overpriced, overly soft) robe, Yuuri drifts in and out of sleep, still floating.

Victor just watches him, lids heavy as he starts to doze.

 

“Yuuri?”

“Mm.”

“Forgive me if this is jumping the shark,” he says, accent syrupy over his groggy, drawling voice, “But would you like to go out with me?

 

Yuuri lets one eye slot open. “As in date?”

“As in date. Boyfriends. Romantic walks on the beach, making out behind buildings, et cetra.” He waves a slim hand around flippantly, grinning slyly.

 

Yuuri snorts. “Romantic, sure.” He wriggles deeper into the plush robe. “I would like that.”

Victor curls over him, tangling whatever limbs he can with Yuuri’s. “It’s a date, then.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote on and off for months, so apologies for any inconsistency. I write when I'm half asleep most of the time anyway. I try to reread it each time and keep it smooth, but I have no beta and am a little bad at editing.
> 
> PS If it wasn't canon that Yuuri loves blowjobs it is now it's the law. Also for a long time this was just "Beej AU" in my docs bc it sounded like "beach AU".


End file.
